


the ballad of robert frost

by babybel



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Dr Nyarlathotep, Other, Time War!Eight, a little bit of hurt/comfort, also i think they're just done with everything. like. theyre so tired, i think the second 8 is exposed to the war they go full eldritch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22592695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybel/pseuds/babybel
Summary: in seeking a moment's respite from the time war, the doctor finds themself going back to jamie's much simpler, more linear war, and to jamie, in hopes they might remember what it is they're fighting for.
Relationships: Eighth Doctor/Jamie McCrimmon
Comments: 13
Kudos: 48





	the ballad of robert frost

**Author's Note:**

> arguably this is bad, disjointed writing but also i think it would be a disjointed thing..... i literally am so emo about it so :| here it is. if i think about it too long i start tearing up. also i go crazy for the concept of eldritch time lords so i did sorta go ham with that as well whoops... bon appetit  
> title is a reference to the poem 8 is reciting at the end because i think even if they're numbed by the horror of war they still go crazy about poetry

They never thought they’d find war calming, but compared to their war, this war was. Coming as they had from a whirlwind of death loops speeding by quicker than the second hand just to gum up ground, of the sky losing a dimension or two and folding in on itself, of the very web of space and time being run ragged, a bit of musket smoke and shoddy, slow, human maneuvers over the moors were nothing. And it really was calming, which sent a shudder through them. 

They’d changed their clothes. It was half a fear of being worried that he’d be able to see what they’d done on them. They couldn’t stand that idea; it didn’t bear thinking about. The other half of it was just having the right garments to blend in and figuring it would be excruciatingly unfair to die of a musket or dirk wound here for a stupid reason like wearing the wrong clothes and leave whoever came next to go back and fight when it should be them. 

So they’d landed and then spent a good ten minutes just staring at the piece of fabric, trying to remember how to do it up. It had been centuries since they’d seen anyone do it. They tried, undid it, and tried again, and then realized they actually should go out and do what they came here to do. 

They went. They left their ship and walked straight through a battle, and as they did, they realized that over however long it had been since their war started, they had lost so many of the aspects that made it easy for people to mistake them for human. There were moments when bullets flew towards them, and they simply unknitted their atoms and came together again a second later. Their eyes had grown keener, more selective; they’d know when they found who they were looking for, even if he was half a mile away. When they wanted cover, or to move without being targeted, they pulled a hillock from the ground with a thought to keep behind, and then spent a second inside every single person on the moor’s minds to put in a blind spot exactly where they’d done it, so it was unseen.

As evening fell - and oh, it was so nice to be in a place where time wasn’t manipulated beyond belief - a thick fog crept over the moor, and it became rare to hear a musket shot. They spotted Jamie McCrimmon five hundred meters off, and didn’t want to wait through all the walking they’d have to do. They skipped ahead in their timestream, just by a few minutes. It was fine. Time was coming apart anyway. They sat next to Jamie, followed Jamie’s gaze up towards the darkening sky. 

“I thought I said not to come after me,” Jamie mumbled, not even looking over at them. 

“You didn’t tell me that, did you?” They blinked, trying to settle their skin, settle into something human-passing. 

“What makes you so special?” Jamie had his arms crossed and resting on his knees, and slowly, he leaned his forehead down against them. 

They carefully put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Well, nothing, I suppose, but- Jamie, you look tired.” 

“Of course I’m tired,” he snapped, and his voice sounded raw. Then, he said quietly, “We’re losing.” 

If they’d been about a hundred years or so younger, they might have launched into a speech about how it might look that way now, but there’s still no knowing of how it would turn out, and one ought to keep one’s spirits up, because keeping one’s spirits up was the most important thing, no matter what. Now, they knew better. “It’s terribly exhausting,” they said. “I agree. I want to sleep.” They hadn’t slept in over thirty years now. 

“Who are you?” Jamie asked, looking over at him for the first time. “You sound English.”

“Don’t say that, it’s offensive,” they muttered in response, and found it was fine watching Jamie before but when Jamie was actively looking at them they couldn’t meet his eyes. “My name is- I’m-” But they weren’t, not really. “I’m a soldier, like you. Just a soldier.” 

Jamie’s eyes narrowed for a moment, then he smiled, a sort of tired, relieved smile. “You’re a McCrimmon,” he said, gesturing to the plaid they’d struggled to wrap around themself. “Why didn’t you tell me? I-”

“Not by blood,” they said quickly. “Honorarily, a long time ago.” 

“Still.” He put an arm around their waist, closing a hand in their shirt like he was making sure they were real. “Good to have family here.”

They leaned their head on Jamie’s shoulder and were surprised when Jamie let them keep it there, and the sky was just dark enough to start seeing stars. Neither of them spoke for a while, just watching space. Then, they cleared their throat, and looked down. “I think,” they said carefully, “that I want to give up.”

“We all do.” Jamie’s hand went up to their shoulder and gave it a little rub, a very clumsy attempt at comfort. “We can’t, though. We’ve got to try, haven’t we?”

“You don’t understand, Jamie.” 

“No, I can promise you, I understand.” Jamie sounded like maybe he was trying to parent them, but then his tone shifted. “Where are you from? Did you say?”

“No. Why?”

“You’re looking at the stars the same way I do. I’ve been told-” Jamie laughed, just briefly. “I’ve been told it’s not natural.” 

They lifted their head and looked at him. “I just realized I don’t want to go back,” they said simply. A beat, then, “I’m not fighting your war, Jamie, I’ve got my own war, and it’s- you can’t- it’s just too much, I think. You know when you really botch up the yarn you’re knitting with and it’s tangled together in a billion different places? It’s like that, it’s like I’m in the middle of that, but instead of yarn, it’s time. I’m choked with time. Knotted timelines, people dying one second and being brought back the next to die again, time replaying the same three seconds over and over and over just to put people in the way to die. I think this war will tear the universe apart, and it’s ugly. It’s so, so ugly.” 

Jamie was watching them, wide eyed. “You’re from out there?” he asked finally, quietly, and pointed a finger towards the stars.

“Yes, I am.” A shudder went through them, like someone’d just given a tug on a timeline. It was a pull to get back to war. 

“Oh.” Jamie didn’t seem as phased as he should. He seemed more shaken by the description of the Time War. He moved a little closer to them. “Then why are you here?” 

“I needed to breathe,” they answered honestly. “I needed to get out for a heartbeat or two.”

“And you picked another war?” Jamie raised an eyebrow, and tried to laugh. “Sorry, Doctor, doesn’t really seem like the best-”

“What did you call me?” they hissed. Their hearts had stopped; that name was wrong. A misnomer. And something Jamie shouldn’t even be able to remember anyway. 

“Er, Doctor, I think.” Jamie shrugged. “I didn’t mean it, it was… just a slip of the tongue, I guess. I’m not sure where it came from. You’re not a doctor, are you?”

“No,” they said bitterly. “I need to go. I need to keep fighting.”

“Can’t you just leave?” Jamie asked. 

The question hung between them like musket smoke. 

Oh, how they wanted to leave. They figured they could try to be human and just stay here. The thought of it, of living in a camp of tents and having little skirmishes with the British here and there and sitting around the same fire as Jamie filled them with such intense longing it nearly knocked them over. 

A thousand years had dulled the fact that they missed Jamie, but now it was back, and it hurt. 

Maybe they could just stay here. Maybe they could stay and let the universe fall apart. 

“No,” they finally answered, and it broke their hearts. “It’s like you said. I’ve got to try.” 

“But I think I miss you.” Jamie said it so openly, like he said everything. “I’m not sure why or how, but I… and I’m sorry for snapping at you when you came up.”

“I still have to go.” The whole conversation had seemed pointless. They thought this would make it better, but it just made them feel dreadful and sick. “I’m sorry, Jamie, I’m- I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright. Didn’t think your war would stop on my account.” Jamie stood and offered them a hand. 

They let him pull them up. 

“I have got questions, though, if that’s alright,” Jamie continued. “I’ll walk you back to wherever it is you’re going.”

“You don’t have to,” they said on impulse. They felt numb.

“I didn’t offer because I thought I had to,” replied Jamie. 

“Alright, then.” They tried to smile, and it felt foreign. 

Jamie took their hand. “I don’t want to lose you in the mist.”

“Good.” They looked down. It didn’t fit right anymore. That made sense though, they figured. They’d changed so much. They were a monster. They felt empty, and stupid for coming. 

When Jamie did ask, it was what they’d expected.  _ Who are you? How do I know you? Why can’t I remember?  _ And because they were fed up with the Time Lords and fed up with their stupid fucking war, they answered honestly and bluntly every time. It wasn’t like their people could spare time or technology to come take Jamie’s mind again. 

They went through, “We used to be friends,” and, “My people took your memories and set you back down here,” and, “It wasn’t your fault,” and, “I used to be head over heels in love with you.” Centuries ago, when they had nothing to do and were feeling particularly self-loathing, they’d recite exactly what they’d say if they were ever in this situation. They didn’t go by any of those scripts now, they just answered the questions asked, and answered them honestly. 

When they reached the ship, they stopped. 

After standing a moment in silence, Jamie said, “I wish you hadn’t told me any of it.”

“You asked.”

“No, I know, I just-” Jamie shrugged. “It’s all on the tip of my tongue, it’s- I can almost remember it all, I’m so close to knowing, but I just… I can’t. It’s making me want to hit something.” 

“Well, I’m sorry. If I could’ve done this properly, I would’ve. I don’t exactly have the time.” 

“You’re a Time Lord.” Jamie’s tone was flat. 

“I’m a soldier,” they bit back. “And I need to go.” 

“You’re just leaving me here?” Jamie demanded. “After everything you told me-”

“You-” They stopped, because they didn’t want to say this yelling. Try again. “You - and people like you - are the only reason I’m still fighting this war, Jamie. You sticking with yours showed me how important it was for me to stick with mine, and if you leave, I can leave, and then the universe will come apart at its seams.”

“Why’d you come here?” Jamie asked, and he sounded less angry and more just lost. 

“I think I’m going to die,” they answered, and as always, it was honest. “I very truly think I’m going to die, and I think if I’m lucky it’ll happen soon. Hopefully I’ll have done enough by then to make sure spacetime doesn’t tear itself up to ribbons. But I wanted to see you.” 

“Well, now you’ve seen me.” Jamie looked down. “What am I meant to do with it all? I mean- how do I go on like I’ve been going on? It’s different now, isn’t it.” 

“I can fix it,” they said grimly. They realized their mistake in telling him everything the moment they started doing it, but they’d become too reckless now to care. “I can do what they did, I can make you forget.”

“I don’t want to forget-”

“I’m not taking you with me. And I’m most likely not coming back, either.” They sighed. “It might be the kindest option.”

“No.” 

“Fine.” They pulled the door of their ship open. 

It was odd. Now, they could sit on the edge of an ouroboros cataract and weave a new reality from the threads of time. They were more grotesquely powerful than they’d ever been. And still, Jamie could pull them away from their ship with only one hand. 

“This war, you said.” Jamie’s voice was quiet. “It’s for the whole universe?”

They nodded. 

“Then I think you’d better go and do a real bang up job.” At length, he gave them a smile. 

They realized, slowly, that this was how Jamie was trying to say goodbye. “I’ll do my best,” they replied, softly. 

“Thanks for coming back,” Jamie continued. He shrugged, a tiny little movement. “I’ll never not think of you, I think.” 

“You’d do better to forget me.” They touched a hand to Jamie’s shoulder. 

“I tried that once, can’t say I like it.” Jamie chuckled, and when they didn’t, he stopped. 

They sighed. It felt clumsy. Jamie had retellings of memories, not his own back. It was a quick, shammy job, really, like when they tried to fill tears in the web of time with daydreams because they just couldn’t spare the minutes to actually weave things back together. Honestly they had no idea why he was trusting them. Well, of course he was. He was Jamie. Still.

“Tell me one more thing,” Jamie said. “Did I help any?”

Well, no, they were going to say. All this did was make me feel disconnected and guilty, more so than I already did. But this was one of the rare occasions where they waited a breath between thinking and speaking, and in that breath they realized that their head was clearer. There wasn’t too much pressure in their ears anymore. Their chest didn’t feel like it was caving in, their eyes no longer burned, and being compressed into an acceptable shape had made them feel whole again, and detracted from the sense that they were stretched too thin over thousands of moments in time. They felt better, much better. “Yes,” they answered. “Yes, you helped, of course you did.”

“I figure that’s alright, then.” Jamie was smiling just a little. “And all those things you told me, maybe I’ll dream about them. I’m tired of dreaming about war.” 

“Me too.” They clapped their hand to the side of Jamie’s face and pulled him a bit closer. “Jamie, promise me you’ll come out on the other side of this fight. Please keep yourself alive, and safe.” 

“I’ll try my best to,” Jamie answered. He grabbed their shoulder. “There really isn’t any way I could-”

“No. Your temporal imprint would blow away like dust in a breeze,” they replied. They rubbed their thumb over Jamie’s cheek. “Take care, won’t you?”

Jamie nodded. “I’m glad you came back,” he said, after a beat. “I think I’ve never had a stranger day than this but I’m glad you came back.”

“I’m glad too,” they replied. “I haven’t felt settled like this in years.” 

“You could stay.” Jamie said it softly. “I mean- I know you said you couldn’t, but- and maybe I just don’t know much about the universe and that, but we’ve got to have a bit of time before it all falls apart, right? A year? How long will it take to catch you up?”

“If I stop now, the war will tear the universe to pieces instantly at the impact zone, and it’ll go from there like shockwaves,” they murmured. “I want to stay, Jamie, I do. I could pretend to be human. I could help you fight your war. You’d win, if I stayed. And then who knows.” They were talking fast and being fantastical, and they ought to reel it in, but a bit of their old passion for life had just taken root in them again. “Maybe a home, maybe a farm, maybe children. We used to talk about children.” 

Jamie was just staring at them, and it sobered them. 

“But no, you’re right,” they muttered quietly. “Time and space are coming apart. We wouldn’t even get a year. And I have to go, I have to. It’s what I am now.”

“Your shadow’s gone funny,” Jamie said, sounding like he wanted to be saying something else.

They looked down, and in the light of the moon they could see their shadow twisting and pulsing, tendrils of it unfurling and spinning out, reaching for their ship. They used to tell their companions - when they still had companions - that TARDISes were meant to be flown by more than one person. That wasn’t technically true. They were meant to be flown by more than one pair of hands, and now, those pairs of hands, those tendrils and offshoots, were itching to be corporeal, itching to fly. Their body was telling them it was time to get back to war. “Sorry,” they mumbled, offhandedly. “I think it’s time for me to go.” 

“You watch yourself out there,” Jamie ordered, and after a moment’s stillness he kissed their cheek. 

They closed their eyes, hung their head, felt their face warm. “I will,” they promised. “And you, here.” 

“Course.” Jamie was watching them. “Go and win your war.” 

They nodded, and opened the door to their ship. “Thank you, Jamie.” 

“Don’t fret over it,” Jamie replied, and gave them a weary smile. “Thank you back.” 

They waited a second, just looking at him, and then stepped into the ship and closed the door behind them. For a moment, they stood still, eyes closed, and felt whole and together and human. Then they let themself fragment into different dimensions, let those tendrils become real enough to fly to the console and pull them to it. They flipped switches and spun dials and soon they were rocketing through the time vortex, which itself had become damaged by the war, and was bleeding chronons. They’d have to fix it later. 

They changed back into their uniform- dress pants and shoes, velvet frock coat, cravat. All of it stained with ash and time and blood. They looked at themself in the mirror for a moment before returning to the console room. 

They hummed as they piloted the time ship, not a tune, really, but intonation. Syllables. They pictured Jamie walking back across the moor to his camp and his fire and his men. They’d thought that seeing him would help, but they hadn’t guessed it would help as much as it did. Now, it felt like they were actually fighting for something again. ‘The universe’ was vague and nebulous and so vast it had lost importance. Jamie was real, and tangible, and meant pretty much the same thing. 

“The woods are lovely, dark and deep,” they murmured, letting their humming take shape into real words, just a bit of recitation to serenade themself as they flew, “but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.” 

The ship landed roughly; time was no longer a smooth sea to sail. The cloister bell rang once, twice. It used to ring only in situations of the most pressing danger. Now, it was regular. They heard it every time they landed anywhere on the Kasterborous battlefield. Nowhere was safe, not anymore. 

They straightened their coat, and redid the button by their throat under their cravat, which had come undone at some point during flight. Then they checked their watch, dropped it back into their coat pocket, and strode towards the door. 

“And miles to go before I sleep.” 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @lesbiandonnanoble :)


End file.
